


Knotted

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Shameless [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Come Sharing, Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shibari, Vibrators, fleshlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: “And you’re sure about this?” Castiel asks for the fifth time, and if Dean weren’t blindfolded, he’d roll his eyes.Granted, he is blindfolded, and he does it anyway, just to spite Castiel. “If I wasn't, do you think I woulda hustled pool for a week to buy the stuff?” He kicks the floor—or, tries too, if his foot weren’t secured to the wall. God, this was a bad idea—how did he talk himself into this again?





	Knotted

“And you’re sure about this?” Castiel asks for the fifth time, and if Dean weren’t blindfolded, he’d roll his eyes.

Granted, he is blindfolded, and he does it anyway, just to spite Castiel. “If I wasn't, do you think I woulda hustled pool for a week to buy the stuff?” He kicks the floor—or, tries too, if his foot weren’t secured to the wall. God, this was a bad idea—how did he talk himself into this again?

Castiel rounds him, fingernails tracing trails across bare skin. Every time they come in contact, Dean twitches and flinches away, purely out of habit; after all these years, he still isn’t quite used to people touching him, even Castiel. Blindness isn’t an exception. If anything, Dean is even more aware of Castiel’s presence and the hands tightening the ropes around his body: wrists bound behind his back, ankles kept spread by the bar between his feet, torso intricately knotted and suspended from the bolts on the ceiling. Dean couldn't move if he tried.

Even more exposing, is the fact that Castiel tied his balls with the same rope, the sensation both arousing and constricting. His saving grace, that Dean can’t see himself like this—what he looks like, only Castiel knows.

“One more piece,” Castiel says, just as he pinches Dean’s nipple.

Initially, Dean hisses and attempts to pull away, but Castiel’s firm hand keeps him stable. The first clamp goes on easy, and Dean bites back a moan from the weight of it, cock giving a healthy twitch between his legs. Castiel elects to ignore it, much to Dean’s displeasure, and teases his other nipple, paying special attention to it with his tongue before snapping on the clamp, this time a little too hard. Dean whines anyway, heat spiraling to his gut; his toes curl, ankles beginning to shake in their bindings.

“You’re okay,” Castiel shushes him, too close to Dean’s ear to be anything but sensual. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Gimme a minute,” Dean huffs, shaking his head. _Focus_ , he tells himself, hanging his head. _Focus, you can’t come yet. You haven’t even started_. Sucking in breath after breath, he eventually softens his shoulders and allows his body to drift forwards, supported only by the ropes and Castiel’s insistent hand. “Think I’m good,” he says, as steadily as he can manage.

“It’s a shame I can’t gag you,” Castiel comments offhand. As much as Dean would like that, he needs to be able to talk, especially for this. They’ve never really done… this, before, with the ropes and Dean’s complete immobility; the last thing he needs is to be unable to speak when he needs to tell Castiel to stop. Castiel thumbs Dean’s lower lip, allowing Dean to suck in the digit for a brief second. “You look so beautiful, with your mouth full.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean hisses. He won’t survive this—what a way to go, though.

Briefly, Castiel disappears, his footsteps still audible throughout the dungeon; they really need to convert one of the bedrooms instead of using a certifiable prison cell, preferably somewhere with a bed and padding. Dean follows him with his ears and sighs in relief when Castiel comes back, a single finger to the slit of his weeping cock. “When it gets to be too much, just say the word,” he says, before something begins to buzz, and _loud_. “But for now, you belong to me, understand?”

“Yes.” Dean nods, exhaling shakily. “Yes, Castiel.”

Dean jumps at first contact, enough to force Castiel to grab his hair by the root. The wand—that fucking wand, the one Castiel had been eyeing online for the last month—comes to life on the underside of his cock, drawing forth enough precome to startle even Dean. Almost immediately, his balls contract and hips buck towards the vibrations, body moving on its own, but just barely. Castiel keeps him still, breath warm and enticing against the shell of his ear.

“So good,” Castiel says, nipping Dean’s earlobe. “I didn’t say you had to stay quiet.”

“Oh thank God,” Dean wheezes, and promptly moans his heart out.

Castiel draws the wand away more often than Dean would like, each time leaving his cock twitching near-violently, in need of more, not less. He must have it on the highest setting, or close enough, because every time he returns, Dean jerks and shudders until he acclimates, curses falling from his lips. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whimpers, lip between his teeth. Too much, too much yet not enough. “ _Fuck_ , I wanna—”

“We just started,” Castiel hisses, low, even lower than Dean has ever heard him. Another rush of precome spills from his cock, and Castiel runs his fingers through it, shoving two into Dean’s mouth, where he laps up his spill hungrily. “Do you think you deserve to come so soon?”

 _Yes_ , his mind supplies; every instinct tells him to come, to get it over with as soon as possible, but Castiel told him no. Outside of their scenes, Dean can come however and wherever he likes, but here, Castiel owns every square inch of his body—most importantly, his cock. “No,” Dean says around Castiel’s fingers, wincing when Castiel pulls the wand away again. “No, don’t go—”

“Good boy,” Castiel muses and pulls the digits free. He teases his wet fingers along Dean’s slit before replacing it with the wand, the setting even higher now; Dean bucks and shouts, all at once thankful that they’ve decided to do this here. No one else needs to hear him like this—no one but Castiel. “You should see yourself. You’re so wet.”

Dean shakes his head, sucking in air like water. “Please,” he begs, winded, hands clenching around nothing, toes curled enough to smart. “Please, oh _God_ Cas—”

Castiel slides the slick head of the wand down Dean’s cock before shoving it against his perineum, and Castiel has to cover his mouth to keep Dean from screaming. “Ten seconds,” Castiel orders. He takes Dean’s throat in hand and counts aloud, all while Dean thrashes, cock throbbing; how he doesn’t come right there is a miracle, but somehow he manages it, practically in tears by the time Castiel pulls away. “Good boy,” Castiel soothes, and pulls the chain connecting the nipple clamps _hard_.

Dean shouts, panting, thrusting into nothing. “Holy shit,” he says, inhaling through his nose. _Breathe, just breathe_. “Holy shit, do that again.”

Like Castiel would do anything but.

Unlike before, Castiel abandons Dean’s cock entirely and just concentrates on his taint, occasionally pressing into his swollen balls; each time, Dean pulls away from oversensitivity, but chases the touch, moaning to his heart’s content. Castiel never admonishes him either, just keeps toying with him, alternating between tormenting him with the wand and yanking on the chain, and occasionally shoving Dean’s pec with an open hand.

“You’re so red,” Castiel praises, palming over Dean’s heart, where it beats erratically. “I should’ve filmed you.”

God, and if that doesn’t send another surge of want through Dean.

The wand shuts off, much to Dean’s lament, and Castiel wanders off somewhere, probably to where he’s keeping all their toys. In the reprieve, Dean centers himself, wiggling to get the blood rushing back into his limbs. He flexes his wrists, rotates his feet—breathes, most of all.

Wisps of leather grace his neglected cock, too gently to be anything other than a tease. When did they get a flogger? Or did Castiel find it somewhere, or sneak it into their shopping cart online somewhere? Wherever it came from, Castiel uses it to his advantage, lightly swatting Dean’s cock with it until it jerks, precome wetting the strands. “I should milk you sometime,” Castiel says, just a suggestion. Dean chews his lip, fighting off the flush no doubt painting him even redder. “Mark you with it. You’re filthy, Dean.”

Dean just moans, turning his face away.

But Castiel goes on, continuing to strike him, harder now. “You like it. Like it when I make you taste yourself, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Dean pants. Dirty as it makes him feel, Dean genuinely enjoys the intimacy of it; not exactly the taste, but the fact that Castiel is feeding him the proof of his desire, sometimes on his fingers, more often than not on his tongue. “Love it when you…”

“So good.” Again, Castiel tugs on the clamps, but lacking the same urgency as before. He takes one of Dean’s nipples between his lips, soothing the swollen bud with his mouth; he keeps the clamp in place, though, simply continuing his ministrations while Dean trembles and moans. “I want you to fuck it.”

 _Fuck what_? If it’s Castiel’s fist, then Dean’s all game. Again, Castiel leaves and returns with something new, this one slick and tight and—“I can’t,” Dean says, delirious, the coil in his belly nearly snapping. Castiel wants him to fuck a silicon toy, slick with lube and tight enough to be an ass but not quite. It’s never had the same give, Dean has found, but it still gets him off just the same. But how is he supposed to do that here? As it is, he can barely move, and Castiel expects him to thrust into it?

Apparently, yes. Forcefully, Castiel grabs him by the hair again, and Dean yelps, balls drawing up tight. “You’ll do what I tell you,” Castiel orders—no, _commands_ —and licks a stripe up Dean’s jaw. “Do you understand me?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean whines.

Tied up like this, Dean can only move a few inches in any direction, depending on how much give there is in the ropes. Castiel doesn’t help matters, either, just holds the sleeve far enough away to make Dean work for it. At most, he can get the head of his cock in, the unexpected tightness reigniting his arousal. Still, Castiel keeps his hold on Dean’s hair, tugging in time with Dean’s shallow thrusts.

Not enough, though, and Castiel knows. He has to know, or he wouldn't be torturing Dean like this. “You’re an ass,” Dean eventually laughs, head bowed. “Gonna make me rip somethin’ out of the wall.”

“I wouldn’t want that to happen,” Castiel chuckles.

A smirk twists his lips as he kisses Dean’s cheek—a distraction. Before Dean fully understands it, Castiel shoves the sleeve onto him, burying Dean’s cock to the hilt, and Dean almost— _almost_ —comes into it. Releasing his hair, Castiel takes Dean’s balls in hand and tugs, both the knots from the rope and Castiel’s hand keeping his orgasm at bay while he fucks Dean with the sleeve, fast and tight and _so close_. Dean’s stomach clenches, hips jerking and spasming and—“ _Cas_ , no—”

And then it’s gone, and Dean mourns the loss, cock throbbing and spilling precome onto the floor. _So close_. He can’t survive much longer. “Good boy, telling me like that,” Castiel coos. “Again.”

Castiel refuses to slow down each time, pumping and twisting the sleeve with both hands; Dean thrusts up to meet him when he can, crying out when he pulls away, only to grind back down. Again and again, Castiel fucks him like that, until Dean feels like a livewire, balls drawn up and oversensitive, shivers wracking his frame. “C’mon,” he gasps. “C’mon, I can’t—”

“I think you deserve it,” Castiel remarks. Dean hears something click, and briefly he wonders if Castiel is planning to do something dangerous, before he feels a new weight on the clamps, dragging the chain down. Probably that stupid carabiner Dean found last week. “But you’ll have to settle for my hand.”

“Poor me,” Dean huffs.

Castiel stifles Dean’s grin with a hand to Dean’s cock, slicked with Dean’s own precome and even tighter than the sleeve. Dean slams his eyes closed behind the blindfold, following Castiel’s hand by pure feel alone—and Castiel doesn’t let up, either. He strokes Dean roughly, simultaneously tugging on the carabiner and sending sparks through Dean’s nipples. Profusely, Dean leaks into Castiel’s fists and grunts, spouting off curses when Castiel lets up even the slightest.

“Get ‘em off,” Dean begs, throwing his head mindlessly from side to side. “C’mon, pinch ‘em good.”

Always loyal, Castiel does, ridding Dean of both clamps, much to Dean’s relief. Said relief is short-lived, though, especially when Castiel begins to jack him harder, taking one nipple between two fingers and twisting. Dean bows and wrenches away, and Castiel just chases him, even while he begs Castiel to let up, to stop. Not a real request—that’s what safewords are for—but Castiel does loosen his touch just the slightest, allowing Dean to catch his breath.

But then it starts again, and Dean is lost, caught between the need to come and the need to escape. Now, it’s too much, everything that Castiel has provided him coming to a head, cresting once again. “You’re allowed, Dean,” Castiel says, a bit winded himself. His hand works even harder now, and Dean tilts his head up towards the ceiling, mouth open and eyes pinched shut. “You can come.”

Almost on cue, Dean feels the coil unspool in his gut, breath ripped straight from his lungs. All at once, Dean’s body clenches, come spilling from his swollen cock into Castiel’s hand, and Castiel continues to stroke him with his spend, even after his orgasm lets go and gives way to aftershocks. “Stop, stop,” Dean says, both euphoric and raptured. Thankfully, Castiel lets him go without question, and begins untying the ropes.

Feet and hands freed, Castiel helps Dean to the floor, atop a blanket he set down before they started, just so Dean wouldn’t have to sit on the cold concrete. The ropes around his chest remain, though; those, Dean can remove himself when he’s good and ready. They look nice, anyway, once he takes the blindfold off; he never really does get to admire Castiel’s handiwork during times like this; most of the time, he’s too strung out on endorphins to notice much else.

Now, though, Castiel lays him down and kisses his reddened nipples, laving attention to where it stings, where sweat clings to his skin. “You’re still hard,” Dean says through a laugh, earning Castiel’s smile. “Sure you don’t want any help?”

“Can I come on you?” Castiel asks in all sincerity. Again, Dean laughs, just because he can, and reaches for Castiel’s hips, urging him to straddle his stomach.

Castiel doesn’t take long after that, too worked up just from watching Dean, but they have the rest of the day to make up for it; later, Dean can take his time and finger Castiel until he comes into Dean’s mouth, and he'll return the favor and feed Castiel his spend. For now, he watches as Castiel’s abs flex and listens to his breath catch, just before he streaks the ropes and Dean’s chin in come, looking like he’s just found salvation.

Dean watches him come down, smirking while he runs his hand through Castiel’s release, gathering it up on his fingers. Castiel sucks them into his mouth without question, moaning while he continues to stroke himself, slowly now, milking the last of his come from his cock. “Hot when you do that,” Dean says, leaning up to kiss Castiel’s cheek. “Like it when you come on me.”

Castiel flashes him a grin and splits Dean’s fingers with his tongue. Hopefully, no one will come looking for them any time soon—this may take a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Second post of the day! This has been bothering me ever since I came across a porno of the same premise, so... here you go? I hope you enjoy it! (I know Dean did). Also, Cas is using a Hitachi wand and a fleshlight on him :D
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
